


Stay With Me

by sshhdonttellanyone



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on Stay With Me Sam Smith (Very Loosely), Blow Jobs, Christmas, Cocaine, Comeplay, M/M, One Night Stands, Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Shameless Smut, South London, Two Shot, best tag ever, cocaine covered cock, drugs used during sex, for Cupcakecait for Xmas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sshhdonttellanyone/pseuds/sshhdonttellanyone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's December 23rd, exactly a year ago since Harry ruined Christmas. He needs something to push the memories away. He finds Zayn who is only too willing to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CupcakeCait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeCait/gifts).



> For my girl CupcakeCait, who's Zarry/Ziam/Zirry fics you should check out (the girl is the queen of FluffSmuts)  
> Merry Christmas you beautiful bastard you! Your friendship has come to mean so much to me, I hope you know you're appreciated and loved.  
> Xxx

Stay with me.

It started with a one night stand. A one night stand bore of desperation and loneliness. 

It was December 23rd and a year to day since _it_ had happened. Harry couldn't think about it, wouldn't let himself think about it. So he pulled on his tightest jeans, his cleanest shirt and his comfortable cardigan that was just like The Dude's from The Big Lebowski, tied his long curly hair back into a bun, wrapped an extra long scarf around his neck and slid on his wool winter coat.  
Braving the cold and snow he got to the end of his Clapham street and stood for a long moment deciding on left or right. Turn left and he could go to Niall's, to mince pies and mulled wine and unconditional love. Turn right and he could go to the bars and saunas of Vauxhall. Friendship or anonymity? Redemption or punishment? There was really only one choice for his current state of mind. Only one thing could push out the memories of a year ago, of flashing blue lights, his mothers tears and the accusation in his sister's eyes. 

Harry spotted him just as he had given up, leaving the bar and heading to a sauna. He was leaning against the outside wall, one leg bent his foot flat against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Oh yes, he would do very nicely indeed.  
"Can I bum a fag mate?" He called out.  
The other man arched one of those perfect brows at Harry's deliberately over the top suggestive choice of words. Without a word he took a box out of the pocket of his leather jacket and with a flick of his wrist one ciggie popped up for Harry to take. Was this guy for real? James Dean much? He was the type of cool kid Harry and Niall habitually took the piss out of, the ones that were all style and no substance. That's what made him perfect for what Harry had in mind.  
"Light?" His voice wasn't as Harry had expected. Instead of the clipped Sloane ranger accent or the Home Counties trying to sound edgy East London, the guy had a lovely soft Yorkshire drawn out delivery.  
"Thanks. I'm Harry." He offered whilst taking the proffered zippo (of course he had a zippo. No plastic disposable lighter for this James Dean wanna be)  
"Zayn."  
"Zayn," Harry rolled the name around his mouth, tasting it, sounding it out. He gave a nod of satisfaction. The name suited the boy and he liked the feel of it on his tongue. It would sound great panted and called out later. "You out with friends tonight Zayn?" Harry made no show of smoking the cigarette beyond lighting it. He hated smoking.  
"No. A date."  
"Oh." Oh.  
"Met him on Grindr, turned out to be a 60 year old 'roid head."  
"Oh?" Harry's oh was a lot more enthusiastic this time.  
"So yeah, I'm all alone now. One more drink and then it's off home to bed for me."  
"Want someone to join you?" Harry didn't have time to dance around the subject. He was going home with someone tonight, and if this Zayn guy wasn't game he'd rather know now. But oh how he hoped he was. The dude was seriously pretty.  
"For a drink? Sure, why not? Won't your friends miss you though?"  
"I'm alone."  
"You get stood up?"  
"No. I came out alone."  
Zayn's mouth twitched. He knew what Harry was saying. The reason he was out in the cold and snow the night before Christmas Eve on his own rather than somewhere with friends.  
"Right."  
"Right."  
"There's a quite bar just down the next street on the left. It'll be about to be closing but the owner's a mate, we can get a drink or two in peace. There?"  
"That's cool with me."

 

Zayn did a complicated rat-a-tat-tat on the metal door that in no way looked like a bar. Zayn seemed to sense Harry's apprehension and smiled at him reassuringly.  
"It's a members only drinking club. The whole point is that it's like a prohabition speakeasy. It's supposed to feel illicit or whatever."  
Illicit. Harry loved how that sounded from Zayn.  
"Awesome."  
A metal grill slid back and a pair of brown eyes squinted out at them suspiciously, before crinkling in a smile of recognition.  
"Zayn! Alright mate! Gimme a sec to unlock this thing."  
The door was pulled open and there stood a stocky good looking guy about their age.  
"Liam let me introduce you to my new friend Harreh, Harreh this is my very dear friend and proprietor of Moonshines Liam." Harreh. The way Zayn said his name was absolutely delicious.  
"Alright man?" He greeted Zayn's friend.  
"Nice to meet you mate. Come on in, let me fix you guys a drink."

Once the pair where tactfully installed in a booth and left alone, with the cocktails Liam had made for them (an old fashioned for Zayn and a fruity yet potent number for Harry) the questions started.  
"So what do you do Zayn?"  
"No. No let's not do that. Tell me this instead; what do you want from tonight?"  
"Erm well-"  
"I know you want to go home together, and I'm good with that, but what do you want from me?"  
Harry's brow furrowed,  
"I'd have thought that was obvious?"  
"I mean exactly. You came out tonight looking for something in particular. What?"  
"I want to forget everything. My name, the past, the future."  
"I can do that. Mine or yours?"  
"Mine." Something about this guy made Harry a little uneasy. Not so much as to give up on him, but enough to want to do this on home turf.  
"Yours it is then. What else do you want from me?"  
"I don't understand."  
"Do you want it hard and fast? Slow and gentle? Do you want me in you? Do you want to be in me? Do you want me to tie you down and tell you what to do, make you gag on my dick? Do you want me to come on your face and call you a slut? Do you want me to hold your hand and pant your name as we come together?" Zayns gaze was intense, that slightly mocking ghost of a smile ever present on his lips. His eyes burned, with want and excitement and even a little distaste. It made Harry's stomach tighten and his pulse quicken.  
"Yes."  
"Yes what?"  
"Yes to all of it. That's what I want from you. Everything."  
"Finish your drink. You live far?"  
"Ten minute walk."  
Zayn threw the last of his cocktail back and slammed it on the table.  
"Let's go."

The walk was excruciating. Harry had picked plenty of people up like this over the last eighteen months or so but never had he taken anyone home without so much as a kiss. Blow jobs in the disabled toilet, yes, frantic fucks behind the back of clubs yes. But never to his home. Zayn didn't even look at him during their short journey. Surely this should put Harry off? Instead it made him want the beautiful stranger even more. Under the orange light of the street lights he sneaked a few sideways glances at him. He really was stunning. Tall and skinny with longish hair and cheekbones to die for. In another life, say three years ago, it was the type of face Harry would fall instantly in love with, that he'd obsess over at 4am, writing poetry and lyrics about in his notebook. The type of face he'd have seen once and would create elaborate fantasies about a kindred spirit who'd see past all of his faults and into the very soul of him. But those days were long gone. Now a face like this made him think only of it screwed up in anger as its owner fisted himself onto Harry's face. Instead of the sweet words he'd once of envisioned falling from those lips that were the exact shade of the erasers on the tops of school pencils all he could envision was them calling him a whore, a slut, poison.  
"It's just here. Sorry for the mess."

"Mess?" Zayn questioned looking around the sparsely furnished bedsit once they'd walked the hall and up the stairs and through Harry's front door. The truth was it was as spotless as a place like this, with its dated wood-chip wallpaper and laminated chipboard cupboards could ever be.  
Harry's old flat had been full of books and papers and sketches. He'd burnt them all. He had very few possessions now.  
"Drink?" Harry asked ignoring Zayn's implied question, "I've got vodka, whisky, rum or tequila."  
"Tea?"  
"No. Just the booze."  
Zayn frowned for a moment before looking for somewhere to sit. The only furniture in the room was a futon, an upturned crate as a bedside table, a clothes rail and the kitchenette.  
"Do you have a bathroom?"  
"That door there." Harry pointed to the only other door than the front door.  
"Cool, I'll have a whisky."  
Harry removed his coat and poured Zayn a drink in to his only glass. He himself took a swig out of the bottle. He was ashamed of his home. For the first time in a long time he missed his messy old flat, with the tomato plants in the window box and the Peace Lily in the kitchen that a spice rack hanging on the back of the door filled with hundreds of jars and vials. Normally he couldn't give a shit what people thought when they came over. They were only hookups or Niall. Niall who would never judge him, he knew this from experience and as for the hook ups well fuck them. Who gave a shit about them? But Zayn made him itchy, inside and out. He found himself wanting to impress the other lad, something he'd never felt ever. Before everything happened he'd been certain of who he was, comfortable enough in his own skin not to crave anyone's approval, and afterwards he'd had such a low opinion of himself he expected the same of others. 

He heard the toilet flush and pulled off his cardigan, straightening out his shirt and unbuttoning a couple more buttons.  
"Your drink is just on the side," he gestured.  
"Cheers. You not drinking?"  
Harry held up the bottle.  
"We can share a glass Harreh you don't have to drink out of the bottle."  
Harry just shook his head. Zayn shook off his jacket, revealing for the first time a black polo-neck jumper, and sat on the edge of the bed.  
"Come here."  
Harry was nervous. He was never nervous in situations like this. That was the whole point. To stop the anxiety. So he pushed the feeling down, took a reassuring swig of whisky, and sauntered over to his waiting companion.  
Zayn also took a sip of his drink.  
When Harry sat next to him, bitting his lip suggestively, playing the roll that usually came naturally but which for some reason wasn't tonight, Zayn's hand went to his cheek.  
He brought his mouth to Harry's, not kissing him but instead dribbling in the warmed whisky.  
"We're going to be sharing a lot more than a glass Harreh. Relax."  
"I can't," he hadn't meant to say that, the words tumbling out of their own volition. Maybe it was the kindness in Zayn's eyes, maybe it was his intoxicating smell that made Harry's head swim or maybe just maybe he was finally ready to be honest and open up with another human being.  
"How old are you Harreh?"  
"20."  
"Your eyes look older. You've lived yeah? Seen things, felt things others your age haven't?"  
"Are we gonna fuck or what?" The question, the insightfulness was too much for Harry. If he'd wanted analysing he'd have carried on seeing his therapist.  
"We're going to fuck Harreh. I'd just like to know who it is I'm fucking that's all."  
"I'm Harry Edward Styles. I'm 20. I'm from Cheshire in a small little town you'll never have heard of. I've been in London for two years. I went out tonight looking for someone to screw me. That's all you need to know."  
"I'm Zayn Javeed Malik. I'm 21. I'm from Bradford. I've been in London for four years. You already know why I went out tonight. You ask me anything else you want to know. I'll answer."  
Despite himself Harry wanted to know more. But he'd be damned if he'd give Zayn the satisfaction.  
"I'm good thanks. That's more than I needed to know."  
"Are you gay Harreh?"  
"And that's your business because?"  
"Tell ya what. I'll remove an item of clothing for every question you answer. I'm only wearing 5 things so it's not like I'm going to-"  
"Fine. No I'm not gay. I fuck anything," he was being deliberately coarse. It was the truth but still.  
Zayn nodded and kicked off his boots.  
"Why-"  
"Wait, it's my turn. And I'll remove an item of clothing and give you a kiss for each question."  
"Cool. Shoot."  
"You're Muslim?"  
"Yep. My mum isn't but my dad is and I was raised in Islam. I try to live as close to the teachings of the Koran as possible. I'm not perfect. I drink-"  
"You fuck men."  
"Allah teaches love above all else. I don't believe he'd have made me this way if he felt it was wrong."  
Harry's cheeks flushed crimson with guilt. Why the fuck was he being so cruel? Was Zayn getting to him that much?  
"I'm sorry."  
"That's okay. Take your top off." Zayn's face had gotten hard, his eyes no longer so kind.  
Harry made a bit of a show of peeling his shirt off, unbuttoning the last few buttons slowly, revealing the vine leaves above his hips.  
Zayn's mouth twitched again.  
"You gave your cock a Caesar vine crown? Brilliant."  
Harry ignored the sarcastic remark and instead pulled down the collar of Zayn's jumper and presses his lips to the exposed skin, pouting and sucking ever so gently. Zayn moaned softly and Harry smirked. This was more like it. When he pulled back, running his tongue over the mark he'd just made, he watched Zayn's eyes flutter open, swallowing thickly.  
"Your turn."  
"Right yeah, erm-"  
"Mind gone blank Malik?"  
"Why were you out, alone, trawling for ass so close to Christmas?" He shot back.  
"I like to celebrate the holidays by fucking strangers." Harry lied his eyes like fire. How dare he? "Your jumper."  
"No. No reward for lies."  
"It's the only answer your getting."  
Zayn studied him for a long moment, looked like he was going to speak but thought better of it and instead pulled his jumper over his head.  
The sight took Harry's breath away. The anger he'd felt melted away by the unexpected surprise that was Zayn's body. He was covered in tattoos, not random doodles like himself, but genuine art. One arm had a full sleeve, his chest and torso had artworks too, the other arm was on its way to becoming a sleeve also. Harry's fingers longed to trace them all. He wanted to kiss every last one. Whilst he was studying him, his eyes drinking in every tattoo, Zayn's arms moved. Before he knew what was happening, Zayn was undoing his hair tie, letting Harry's curls free. He brushed the tendrils that had fallen in his eyes back from his face.  
"Your turn," his hand stayed at his cheek, stroking downwards, his fingers tracing across his lips.  
"Mind gone blank Styles?" He echoed Harry's earlier words.  
"Have you ever been in love?" He would never have asked such a personal question if Zayn's fingers didn't have him so flustered.  
"Once. Danny. He was my best mate. I suppose it wasn't really love but it felt like it at the time ya know? He's straight. I told him. He was good about it but obviously didn't feel the same. We don't talk anymore, which is heartbreaking. Shoes."  
Harry did as he was told. Glad to be able to look down, he didn't want to look at Zayn, see the pain in his eyes. It was too humanising. He had been planning on kissing Zayn's chest, taking one of his nipples in his mouth and tugging with his teeth but when he looked back up he found himself kissing Zayn's face. His cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, each of his eyelids, and finally his mouth. Not a passionate snog, but a sweet pouty kiss, his lips lingering but never parting. It made his heart race.  
When he parted they stayed staring into each other's eyes.  
"Why did you move to London?"  
And Harry had to kiss him again. For not asking the question he'd just asked. For sensing that Harry wasn't strong enough to answer that. Zayn smiled at him gently and nodded willing him to answer.  
"Uni, plus I'd always wanted to live in London. I came here on a school trip when I was 15. It felt like the centre of the universe, a million miles away from where I'd grown up."  
"Can I change my last answer?" Zayn cut in.  
"Of course."  
"I've been in love twice. Danny and London."  
Harry laughed in reply, completely getting it, whilst Zayn took off his socks. He wracked his brain for the next question.  
"Why did you come home with me?"  
"I suppose there's three parts to that. I was horny, you're gorgeous, and your eyes. You looked like you couldn't, shouldn't be alone tonight."  
Harry was speechless. So he said nothing, instead following suit and pulling off his socks.  
"Tell me about your best mate."  
Once again Harry was grateful for Zayn's question. He could've asked if he was right, if he'd read Harry correctly but he didn't. He asked a happy question instead.  
"I had two. Niall who's insane and hilarious and gets me. He knows me more than anyone else. And Gemma my sister, we were really close, had no secrets and told each other everything. She's amazing, like Niall she sees the world as this wonderful place where anything is possible, where any day could be the day you meet your destiny. Life is an adventure for them both."  
"You said had?"  
"Gemma doesn't really speak to me anymore. Take your trousers off." No way was he elaborating on that. Zayn had a way of making him say more than he'd intended but that was going too far, took him too close to thinking about _it_.  
Zayn stood, unbuckling his belt and letting it hang as he popped the top button and lowered his zip. His eyes never left Harry's as he made his way towards him.  
"You." Harry understood and pulled the jeans down. He let his hand brush against Zayn's crotch and felt the cock stir in interest.  
This time where to kiss was obvious. Harry, pressed his open mouth against Zayn's boxers and blew his hot breath against the fabric. He traced the shape of the rapidly hardening member with his lips, from base to tip, taking the covered head into his mouth. Zayn groaned. Whilst he was doing this, Zayn's thumb ghosted along his jaw, stoking him gently in encouragement. When he looked up, cock still in his mouth he saw Zayn staring down at him, genuine affection in his eyes. He had to look away.  
Zayn sighed and took a step back.  
"Your turn."  
"Favourite sexual fantasy?" He had a million things he wanted to learn about Zayn but he wouldn't allow himself to ask them. He just couldn't.  
"Right now? At this second? Your face covered in my come."  
"Great answer." Harry's hands eagerly went to his jeans but Zayn batted them away and pulled Harry to his feet.  
"Let me."  
He unwrapped Harry like an early Christmas present, with a quiet relish. It made Harry feel exposed and vulnerable, Zayn's eyes dancing over him, looking at him like he was a prize. Like he was something worth having.  
Zayn dropped to his knees taking Harry's jeans with him, pulling them to his ankles for Harry to step out of.  
On his way back up he stroked his hands up the outside of Harry's legs. Squeezing when he got to his hips, then bringing his hand around to cup the front of his boxers. He pressed against Harry's hard length and licked his lips bringing his face in.  
Finally Harry thought pushing his hips forward against that beautiful hand. Finally I'm going to taste him.  
But Zayn stopped, his lips brushing Harry's as he spoke.  
"Why do you want me to use you Harreh?"  
"Why do you care?"  
"I asked first."  
"Because I deserve it. Because the only time the noise stops is when I'm fucking. Because I need it. Because if not you then someone else. Because it's this or coke and I'm skint. Because I'm broken and I don't want fixing," he panted it out. He hadn't meant to. But it was out there now. He fiddled with the band of Zayn's red American Apparel pants.  
"Wait-"  
"No. A deal is a deal."  
"Just one more question, you lied before. Do you have a problem with cocaine?"  
"No," Harry answered honestly. He didn't have the money to have a habit. He only recreationally used, at parties and stuff.  
"Inside pocket of my jacket."  
Harry picked up the jacket that Zayn had hung over the end of his clothes rail. Sure enough inside was a wrap.  
"Bring it here."  
Harry did as he was told, handing it over.  
"You can take them off now."  
Harry didn't know he could move so fast. The thick beautiful cut dick that sprung out made his mouth water. He was about to reach out for it when Zayn asked;  
"Do you want me to answer that question or another?"  
"What question?" He couldn't make his eyes look up from the prick in front of him. It was a little smaller than his own but much thicker. It would stretch the corners of his mouth he thought with a shiver.  
"Why I care."  
Harry's cock was straining against his boxers, his mind was clouded with thoughts of Zayn in his mouth, in his arse.  
"Yeah whatever."  
"Because I don't use people. An encounter like this can be so much more than just that," Zayn lifted Harry's head by the chin so he was looking in his eyes. "Because no one deserves that."  
Harry didn't know what to say.  
"Pants Harreh." There it was again. Zayn somehow knowing when Harry couldn't take anymore.  
Harry took off his boxers, quickly fisting himself as he did so.  
"Now my kiss."  
Harry gave a lopsided smile and dropped to his knees again.  
"Wait," and with that Zayn opened the wrap, spat on his hand and wet the head of his penis. He then scooped up some of the cocaine and rubbed it all around his shaft.  
"Now you can kiss it."  
Harry grinned up at him panting. Shit this was hot.  
He lean forward and blew ever so softly, smiling at the twitch it caused.  
Licking his lips to make sure they were slippery enough he finally slid his mouth around Zayn. The groan of appreciation spurred him on, licking and kissing, the bitter taste of coke ever present numbing his lips. He couldn't feel his teeth, this was no shitty street blow but decent stuff. His heart rate increased as the drug absorbed into his gums. He looked up at Zayn was blown pupils, cock still in mouth his tongue working its magic, and saw Zayn using a ripped off piece of the wrap to snort some of the substance.  
His smiled around Zayn's member and got back to the task in hand, sliding down as far he could take it. He felt Zayn's hand in his hair, pulling at it, pushing him forward and then back.  
"Bed." Zayn instructed, pulling Harry up and pushing him back.  
Harry flopped back and scooted up so his head was on the pillows. He watched as Zayn bent over retrieving his belt.  
"Hands above your head."  
Harry loves where this was going and instantly complied. Zayn straddled his waist and frowned.  
"Lose the cuffs."  
Harry had brown leather cuff bracelets around each wrist, which would get in the way of the belt Zayn was planning on wrapping around them. Harry tensed underneath him and shook his head.  
"Just put it over them."  
Zayn frowned again, glancing at Harry who gave him a pleading look. Understanding dawned and Zayn slowly popped the metal poppers.  
"No. Please?"  
"Harreh, it's ok."  
He removed the cuffs and closed his eyes taking a shaky breath before opening them and gently pressing the softest of kisses to each scar. He then dropped his forehead to Harry's.  
"Harreh, it's ok," he murmured and kissed him properly for the first time. 

Harry felt shaken, shaken to his very core. But it was ok. Zayn had seen and said it was ok. So he concentrated on the kiss, on the wonderful feeling of Zayn's tongue entwining with his own. When they finally broke apart, pausing to grab a much needed breath Harry panted "belt,"  
"Your sure?"  
"Oh yes."  
So Zayn, dropping another kiss on each wrist, wrapped his belt in a figure of eight around Harry's wrists, buckling it in the middle once they were secure. 

Zayn scooted up to his chest, cock in hand, rubbing it across Harry's face.  
"Gonna take it Harreh?"  
"Yeah."  
"Gonna suck it good?"  
"Yeah.  
"Want it?"  
"God yeah."  
"Beg."  
Harry groaned. Yes, this was it, this was what he'd needed.  
"Please Zayn, please may I suck you?"  
Then Zayn was fucking his face.  
"Take it. Take it bitch."  
It felt so good, Harry was writhing and his cock leaking, desperate for attention. Zayn was speeding up and Harry knew he was close. He pulled out and started fisting himself, so Harry opened his mouth sticking out his tongue, ready to catch Zayn's seed.  
The sight of Harry like that, all wide eyed and eager, with his angelic curls proved too much for Zayn who shoot his hot streams over Harry face. Harry himself drew his tongue in and swallowed down what was there.  
Zayn coaxed out the last drops of his load whilst Harry lapped at him. His had a hand steadying himself against the wall, panting, coming down from his high. He looked good Harry thought, sated and happy. He smiled up at him sweetly and Zayn returned a smile with equal warmth.  
"Can I take a picture of you? Like this? You look so beautiful. I want to be able to look at it and remember."  
Harry just nodded not wanting to show how touched he was.  
Zayn jumped up on wobbly legs and pulled his mobile out of his jeans.  
He got back on to get the image from the exact same angle and once it was taken leaned down to kiss the lad underneath him, tasting himself.  
"Let me clean you up,"  
Part of Harry hoped Zayn was going to lick his face clean but when Zayn ran to the bathroom and got a damp flannel he decided that was better. He strokes were so gentle.  
"Your turn, we really need to take care of you don't we?"  
Harry could hardly speak the need was so desperate, but he managed to pant out.  
"Can I lick you whilst you blow me?"  
He got an enthusiastic grin in response.  
"You want untying?"  
Harry weighed it up. If his hands were free he could spread Zayn's cheeks, get his fingers inside him. But on the other hand he liked the helpless feeling of being bound. He decided to leave the decision up to Zayn.  
"Do you want me to finger you too?"  
"Your tongue will do. For now."  
"Then leave it on."  
Zayn nodded and spun himself around, kissing the tip of Harry's throbbing cock.  
"Slowly," Harry warned, "I'm already so close. I want to taste you properly."  
Zayn moaning against his cock felt so fucking good. He felt Zayn's tongue lightly lapping at his leaking slit, pulling back his foreskin and gripping him tightly to stop him accidentally coming before they were ready for it.  
Zayn's bum was in Harry's face, his legs wide enough that he had clear access to his entrance. Perfect.  
Zayn's teasing blowjob was just right, wonderful feeling but not so much that Harry was going to loose it. Trembling slightly Harry flattened his tongue and pressed it to Zayn's button. The moan this earned was the loudest yet and it made Harry's hips jut forward, sliding him further into Zayn's mouth than he'd ever been.  
He licked and lapped at the fluttering hole. The sensations were almost too much. Zayn was working him with both his mouth and his hand,whilst his hole was opening up for him like a flower and when Harry pointed his tongue and slipped inside, he took him to the back of his throat. It proved too much and harry spilled his load into Zayn's eager mouth, licking and slurping it down, swallowing as much as he could but a little dribbling down his chin. He turned and looked at Harry, very deliberately wiping it away with his index finger and licking it slowly.  
He gently untied Harry's wrists, kissing them once again, before bringing his hands together and holding them in his own.  
"I'm going to hold you for a little while now Harreh, then we're going to have proper sex, but not until you've let me hold you. Because it's important you know you're more than a just a shag for anyone that wants you. You're beautiful and your eyes...your eyes are so soulful, so full of life and laughter but they also have fear and despair and hurt. Eyes like that are the eyes of a survivor. That's what drew me to you Harry Styles. You're stronger than you think."  
Harry buried his head in Zayn's neck and for a moment, a brief brief moment, he allowed himself to believe what he'd just heard.


End file.
